


on the other end of things

by boxysmiles



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, FBI Agent chilling in phones AU, M/M, Minor Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Writiny Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxysmiles/pseuds/boxysmiles
Summary: San speaks to his phone sometimes. Mostly to warn it that he'll get an ad-blocker soon enough, if just to save his bank account from all the online shopping he ends up doing thanks to all the advertisements. Of course, he never expects a reply.Except one day, he gets one. He certainly doesn't expect there to ever be anyone on the other end. He certainly never expects to ever meet them either.Yet here he is.
Relationships: Choi San/Song Mingi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	on the other end of things

**Author's Note:**

> For [@lovjis](https://twitter.com/lovjis), my secret santa giftee !  
> I chose your prompt with the FBI agent in the phone AU hehe :') I hope you had a lovely Christmas, and a Happy New Year! <3 <3 <3

San's bank account is in mourning.

Well, more like San is mourning _for_ it — but he's sure that if his bank account could be personified and have feelings, he knows it would be grieving the sorry state of itself.

He has enough to get through rent and whatever necessities he needs, and it _is_ his spare spending money he's using, but it seems like whatever cushion he has never lasts past payday.

He knows what the problem is, at least.

Goddamn social media.

Specifically, the _ads._

They seem to know when it's payday, and usually the day he has off work, meaning more time to spend on social media and therefore more time to spend his money. The ads always give some perfect type of sale or deal, and it seems like he can only succumb to the whims of capitalism.

Last week it had been a two-for-one deal at a local, usually rather expensive dessert place. He'd been missing hanging out with Seonghwa, both of them busy over the last month and so the two-for-one became a convenient excuse.

They'd gone halves on the dessert, but it had quickly become a whole night together of catching up. Karaoke and arcades and drinks — it had quickly tallied up, and though San absolutely doesn't regret it in the slightest, as he'd missed Seonghwa too much, he absolutely places blame on the two-for-one.

This week it's an online clothing store, with some very nice marked-down prices on some winter clothing.

And sure, it's coming up to winter, and he's been needing a new coat for a while now. But he _really_ didn't need the extra sweaters or shirts or pants. He really does _not_ need that one specific shirt that he also purchased, one that he knows Wooyoung will try and steal from him.

Arguably, he _does_ need the cute plush toy he also added to the cart last minute. It’s fine. It’s an emotional investment, and so it’s justified.

Except now that the purchase has gone through, and the high of online shopping is slowly fading away in the face of the digital receipts and dwindling money, regret is starting to seep in.

He tries to reassure himself that the sale is just too good to pass up. He'll be thankful for the new, good quality clothes when they arrive and he has more money next week. It's an _investment._

And the clothes really are nice. They'll look _good._ He'll look good in them, and it's okay, he'll just make some more home-cooked meals this week to try and save what spending money he can.

"One day I'll figure out how to get an ad-blocker on you," he tells his phone, sighing as he locks it and places it beside him on the bed. He's already put one on his laptop after realising he’s gotten to the point that he actually _sits_ through the Youtube ads, because they're usually just music videos or actually interesting topics.

Wooyoung had pointed out the fact he had sat through them once, and once he realised his life had somehow devolved to watching _Youtube_ ads, he'd been quick to remedy it with an ad-blocker on his laptop. Still though, he catches himself watching them on his other devices.

Refusing to look at the receipt or his bank account any longer, he leaves the phone on his bed as he wanders into the kitchen.

At least Wooyoung and Yeosang will like that he's cooking, even if all they have in their shared apartment is rather bland. Still, they've all been eating take-out for way too long now, and he decides it'll be good to surprise them once they come home from their shifts.

He does, unfortunately, need his phone to look up what recipes he can follow. Begrudgingly, he goes back to get it, holding it in his hand as he mumbles the ingredients they have aloud.

"Ramen... two eggs, I thought we had six this morning? What the hell Yeosang— okay at least we have some vegetables..." He continues his ramblings as he checks over the cupboards and their small fridge. Their supply isn't great, but it's definitely enough to make a basic meal.

Maybe something like bibimbap, though they don't have any meat. Maybe he'll swap it out, they had a bit of tofu—

He goes onto Naver to check anything he can substitute the meal ingredients with, and narrows his eyes suspiciously at the first couple of recipes. They're advertisements, apparently, but almost _too_ perfect.

Scrolling past them, he goes for the third result. It's good enough, and he sets up his phone on the kitchen bench as he starts to cook. They should be home in just over an hour, giving him enough time to cook — and enough time to fix anything, in case it goes wrong.

Which is likely. He's _really_ not too good at cooking.

Still, it goes off without an incident. He proudly finishes up the meal, keeping it warm as he waits for Yeosang and Wooyoung to come home, and even starts on doing the dishes.

It's productivity in the form of trying to feel less guilty for his indulgent purchases today. It's not going too well, but he'll take whatever consolation he can give himself.

Wooyoung is suspicious when he comes home and spots the meal, which — fair enough, it _has_ been a while since any of them cooked, and the last time was Yeosang's attempt at forgiveness after accidentally using San's toothbrush.

Once he realises San doesn't have anything to repent for though, he's straight into the dish. He sends photos to Yeosang just to get him to hurry home, claiming the temptation to eat Yeosang's share will soon overcome him.

When Yeosang does come home, only fifteen minutes later, he's got a bright grin on his face and immediately heads over to the food. Usually all of them return home from shifts with tired gazes and heavy shoulders, but Yeosang shows no sign of such weariness tonight.

It's a good thing, San thinks. It's good to see both Wooyoung and Yeosang happy and excited for the meal, and expressing their gratitude so heavily. Even if Wooyoung does lather it on just to annoy San, reaching over to squeeze San's cheeks and coo at him.

Still, he reasons, maybe it's not such a bad thing that he ended up cooking. Maybe the thought of saving isn't a bad one — that maybe that damn ad, in the end, is _maybe_ for the best.

Maybe he'll hold off looking at ad-blockers on his phone. For now.  
  


* * *

The ads, thankfully, taper off with their temptation.

They usually do near the end of the week, like they know San really can't put any more spending money into such things. They go into things that are nice, but not so tempting, and so the urge to spend his money subsides.

Anyway, he's just gotten the package for the clothes, so he's definitely pretty happy. His bank account is not, but it's too late to take back the decision, and so he decides he can do nothing but just be excited about his new clothes.

Wooyoung walks into his room as San's trying them on, mouth opening in surprise.

"Oh, _that's_ a nice shirt," Wooyoung says, and of course it's the damn shirt San suspected he'd like to steal.

San grips the bottom of it, turning away from the mirror to face Wooyoung and poke his tongue out at him. "It's new, and _mine."_

"What's yours is mine," Wooyoung sing-songs, coming forward to get a better look at it.

"What's mine is mine, thank you," San replies, even though they both know it’s not quite true. They share a lot with each other, basically _everything,_ and San doesn't have much hope of keeping this shirt exclusive to himself.

Wooyoung gets him to do a small twirl, inspecting the shirt. He whistles appreciatively, head tilted in consideration as he looks it over.

"That looks really nice on you actually," Wooyoung compliments, letting the genuine words slip through easily. "Where'd you get it?"

"Uh," San says, eyes flickering over to the package that's currently spilled out over his bed. Wooyoung's eyebrows lift in surprise at the mass amount of new clothes, going over to look through it. "Some online store."

"You don't know?" Wooyoung asks, picking up the coat and inspecting the fabric. He seems satisfied with the quality though, which is a good sign that it's durable and good if Wooyoung approves of it.

"Not really. I saw they were having a really good online sale," San admits, turning back to the mirror to inspect the shirt again. Now that Wooyoung has complimented it, he feels that it somehow looks even better.

"I only get shown sales _after_ they're over," Wooyoung pouts, which makes San laugh. It does seem that his online preferences are entirely opposite to the ones provided to San. Wooyoung's ads are seemingly always just sales that are always late, long boring ads that he can barely skip through, and recently he's got a problem of ads in different languages.

"I just think you've managed to annoy Naver somehow," San replies, finally shrugging off the shirt to try on another one.

Wooyoung makes himself comfortable on the bed, intent on staying around as San tries on his different clothes. "I don't even know how. I just look up memes for Seonghwa to enjoy."

"You mean to torment him with."

Wooyoung huffs. "He loves them."

"He loves videos of cute things. He does _not_ love loud, distorted videos with songs he doesn't even like."

Wooyoung waves a hand, a mischevious smile on his lips. "Yeah, but he loves me, and therefore he loves them by default."

"I don't think that's how that works at all," San replies, but lets it drop as he finally gets the different article of clothing on.

"Oh, that's nice too," Wooyoung compliments, humming thoughtfully. "Was that on sale too?"

"Yeah, half price. Honestly, cheaper than the coat I had two years ago," San recalls, tugging on the bottom of it so it settles a bit better. "And better quality."

Wooyoung sighs dramatically. "Can you put in an order for me next time you see a good sale? Seriously, my ads lately have been for _baby_ clothes. Does it look like I have a baby?"

"Maybe it's hinting at something," San stirs up, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, like that's biologically possible between Yeosang and I," Wooyoung retorts with a scoff.

"No, I meant that _you're_ the baby," San replies, dodging the predictable pillow being thrown at him. He tuts, picking it up and throwing it back over so that his pillow isn't just lying around on the floor.

At the end of trying everything on, he's both incredibly satisfied that everything suits him so well, and also a little mortified that he's spent so much after just a mere ad. They're all this well-targeted, and now he knows he'll be getting similar clothes again now that he's purchased from the one store.

Maybe he'll be able to just fend off the ads to Wooyoung. Maybe save himself the money and _only_ order for Wooyoung.

He doubts his self-control will hold out, but the thought is there regardless.

"Damn you," he tells his phone later again, looking at it sitting unassumingly on his small desk. "I will not succumb to any other ads. I need to start saving my money, damnit."

His phone, of course, does not reply.

He sighs, leaving it on his desk for now as he opens up his laptop. The rest of the night passes by, vaguely imagining different outfits and scenarios he can wear them in now.

Admittedly, he keeps imagining the scene of a first date. Awkward first meetings, which will hopefully be barreled right past and into the more fun, open side of things. At least he'll look _good,_ and honestly the clothes certainly are perfect for a 'date'.

Not like he's getting one anytime soon though. He's busy enough as it is, and likes to say he lives vicariously through Wooyoung and Yeosang. _Living_ with the two of them is enough to fulfill his own relationship status.

Still, the thought of it creeps up on him. It's been a while since he's been on a date, even longer since he's properly dated anyone or been in a relationship. He misses it — not the people, not anymore, but the comfort, the security, the love and the laughter they bring into his life.

He's okay without it, but it's just — it'd be nice, on nights like this. When he just wants to wrap himself around someone and cuddle with them.

Wooyoung probably would anyway, though not without a bit of grumbling about it. He shuts his laptop and goes to wash up for the night.

When he finishes up, he grabs his phone and slides into bed, doing one last check of his social media. He stifles a disbelieving laugh as he spots an ad for a money management app.

He doesn't download it, because his finances are honestly fine, it's just his annoying habit of online shopping on payday that's a little bit inconvenient sometimes.

It's definitely conveniently timed, considering everything. Maybe his bank _has_ grown sentient and asked for help.

He's too tired to ponder on it any further though. He locks his phone, places it on his bedside table, and rolls over to sleep.

* * *

San doesn't think a lot about the ads.

Well, not anymore than usual. It's just something that sits familiarly in the back of his mind whenever he scrolls past them; they're very convenient, very fitting, and alright — maybe he does click on one or two of them.

Maybe three, but he only purchases from two of them, so that's all he'll count.

Really though, he doesn't think about them. Not actively, anyway.

He's on his computer, spending his day off work gaming. Yeosang and Wooyoung are out on a date, and so San has the entire place to his own for the afternoon — which is great, because then San can have the speakers on for his game, rather than using his headphones.

His phone is lying on his bed and away from him, as without headphones he'll actually be able to hear the device if it rings, rather than relying on the screen lighting up on the desk to alert him.

He's waiting in the lobby of a new game, waiting for the other players to finish their customisations and ready up. He's got the sound of the game turned down in favour of playing some music, humming to himself.

The volume is low enough that he'll be able to hear his phone ring, or if Yeosang and Wooyoung return home early. The current song is coming to an end, the end of it slowly fading out, and it's the only reason San hears it: the low volume of voices coming from his phone.

At first he barely notices it, but then he picks up on a louder, incredulous tone, and it startles him. Heart racing, he whirls his chair around — expecting to see someone behind him, even though he knows he probably would have heard an intruder, or glimpsed their reflection from his monitor screen.

Thankfully, no one is behind him. He reaches a hand out, checking behind him to see the screen so he can turn off the music playing.

It cuts off the new song that's starting, and San listens with quiet breathing, waiting for something to happen again.

"—you know you can't keep doing that," a voice says, coming clearly from San's very own phone.

His eyebrows furrow, wondering if he's left a video playing. He hasn't watched anything today, but maybe he accidentally left his phone screen on and it's navigated to a video player without him realising.

"I know," comes the reply from another voice. San glances back at his computer screen — they're still waiting on two more players, so he has the time to get up from his chair.

Approaching his phone, he tentatively picks it up. He's inwardly scolding himself for acting so wary of his phone, but there's no one around to witness his behaviour at least.

After all, it is a little strange — and now San's starting to think his phone is possibly haunted, and that scares him. He doesn't know how to deal with ghosts. His grandma always told him to be nice to them, to listen to their woes, but San has a feeling he might accidentally just start screaming instead.

It's fine, he reassures himself. It's fine. Maybe the ghost just wants to watch some videos. That's fine. San can handle that much, surely?

To his surprise, his phone screen is locked. Moving his phone wakes the phone screen up properly, and he unlocks it quickly, just to check if he’s left an app open.

There’s no app open, and there's no visible video playing.

There's a heavy, distant sigh that comes from the speakers, which startles him. San opens up his recent apps, then closes all of them hurriedly, heart still racing.

None of them cut the sound off.

The conversation continues.

"It's just that he clicks them a lot! And I think he enjoys it. I don't do much anyway, I just check in occasionally at the start of the week..."

San puts his phone near his face, inspecting the speakers, like that will somehow help him see any issues with them any clearer.

"You know you should only be checking in monthly, and just to see activity about-"

"Any actual threats, yes I know. Of course I know. I only do this after I finish all my actual tasks! I just... Get a bit bored."

San sees his confusion reflecting back from the screen. He stares at it for a moment, not properly taking in the strange conversation any longer.

Turning down the volume doesn't help. Turning it up doesn't change the volume either. Locking and unlocking his phone makes no difference.

"What the fuck," he finally says to himself.

The voices cut off their conversation immediately. San is finally, _finally_ , met with silence from his phone.

There's a noise from his computer, the indication that everyone in the lobby is ready to go. He looks back at his monitor for a moment, just to see the screen change from the lobby to a new game, and it's only the sheer panic of losing his rank that he quickly moves to sit back at his desk.

"Do not fucking tell me you switched the microphone on." The harsh whisper from his phone startles San, and he feels his heart beating so heavily in his chest he fears it’ll burst.

"Is... Is someone in my phone?" He asks into the air — though, that's not quite right, is it? Maybe he's asking the voices inside of his phone. The people inside of his phone. The people that have apparently left the microphone on.

_What the fuck._

"No!" Someone squeaks out in panic. "No, nope! Oh my god, oh fuck-"

The audio cuts out, and San stares at his phone in disbelief.

There's rapid audio coming from his speakers, teammates telling him to hurry up and move, and he jolts in surprise. His heart is pounding, close to bursting out of his chest.

His thoughts are racing, moving so fast he can barely latch onto a single one. There's— there's people in his phone? Someone on the other end? Who shouldn't be there, who definitely shouldn't be there—

And there's his teammate dying, and he curses aloud and rushes over to help them out. It's the only thing that's keeping him from spiralling into complete panic, so overwhelmed he doesn't even know where to start. What to start thinking. What to start doing.

Should he tell Wooyoung and Yeosang? He should, he definitely should. But they might think it's a prank. Maybe they won't believe him.

Because it's ridiculous, isn't it? That someone on the other end of his phone _spoke_?

Maybe he should call Seonghwa. Seonghwa, surely, will give him good advice even if he doesn't believe in his story.

San turns his character around and shoots an enemy. His heart is still racing, and likely won't calm down anytime soon.

Did this whole thing really happen? Did he really hear a whole conversation he wasn't meant to hear?

And — and remembering the conversation, if, _if_ , there really are people checking in on his phone, then one of them seems to be hinting that he checks in on San's activity. That San seems to be interacting with it.

He pieces it together, right as his character is suddenly shot dead from a sniper.

The ads.

The goddamn targeted ads.

He lets out a very undignified gasp, eyes staring wide right back at him as his death replay comes on his screen. He'll respawn in five, four —

There's a person checking on his activity. Giving him those very ads very purposely. Right at the start of the week, lining up all too well with his paydays.

"What the fuck," he says. This time, he has no idea if anyone is listening to it.

He respawns, and makes sure to move before being hit. His mind is racing, but he does his best to expel the energy and confusion into the familiar notions of the game. He's not going to lose his damn ranking all because of a complete stranger who is apparently in his goddamn phone.

The game finally comes to an end. San ends up with the best kill of the game, the replay playing on his screen, and he can't feel any of the excitement and vindication he usually does whenever he manages to end up with it.

He realises he never turned on his own game microphone, and he winces. He types out a quick "gg" and then leaves the lobby entirely, shutting the game down.

The apartment is very, very quiet. There's no more noises coming from his phone, none from his computer, and now it feels too silent.

"So..." he says to his phone, just managing to cut himself off from saying another what the fuck. "Is uh... Is anyone there?"

His phone, like it should, remains silent.

San lets out a very heavy breath.

His phone lights up for a moment, the ping of a new message coming just a second later, and he startles so hard that he ends up with his fists up.

He’s ready to fight his phone, like that will do anything to help him. But who knows — maybe his phone will pull a Transformer, and he'll be the first ever man to fall to the wave of robots taking over the world like they rightfully should.

He waits in that position for a couple of minutes.

Another message pings through. Then another, in quick, rapid succession.

Picking up his phone extremely carefully, he looks over the notifications.

The messages are from a Private ID, and he's honestly sure if he's surprised about it. In succession, the messages read.

**Hello, I'm so sorry, please don't tell anyone about that! I promise there's no threat to your security, as... well, I am your security. Technically. Anyway, that was a complete mishap, and never should have happened! Please pretend it never happened, and please don't tell anyone about this.**

The text is long and well formatted, which quickly distingrates for the following messages.

**oh god please don't ignore me. really though, please don't tell anyone :(( i'll lose my job, and then i won't be able to feed my fish**

**i mean there's definitely more concerning matters, but i'm mostly concerned about my fish right now. im kind of panicking. im sure you are too though of course!!! but oh god my poor fish dude**

San stares in complete bewilderment.

He should be more concerned. He really, really should be more concerned. His phone is apparently being monitored by someone. Someone who managed to get his number, and is now texting him.

San's thumbs hover over the keypad. He types a letter, then quickly deletes it. He doesn't even know what to say, how to reply. How is he meant to even talk to someone that's apparently in his goddamn phone?

Typing a single letter and then deleting it happens a couple of times, enough for the Private ID to start panicking some more.

**listen i really am sorry! you really shouldn't have known i existed. or like, the other dude either. i'll be in serious trouble. like, getting fired. uh, national security is also a big risk here. oh god i shouldn't even be telling you this much.**

**oh god seriously please reply**

**i don't know what to do like i rlly did not wake up expecting to get fired today and honestly i would like to keep my job so i'm hoping like. yknow. not to get fired**

**but like if anyone finds out im def getting fired. well that's putting it lightly. there will definitely be much worse consequences because, yknow, national security like i said. anyway uh !! please reply !!**

San really, really does not know what the hell to do. It feels like too much is happening, and he doesn't know how to react to it all.

He sits with his thumbs moving above the screen, unsure of what to send. No thoughts are coming to him, no chance of helping him.

He scrolls up the chat, reading the messages over and over again.

Finally, a thought comes to him, and he types it out and sends it before he can think it over.

**i also did not expect to wake up today with the power to get someone fired**

The reply is immediate, the other person still just as panicked.

**thank u for replying !!!! i mean that's a little scary but that's fine !!!! please don't use that power for evil**

**please think of my fish. and me. but mostly my fish**

San turns around in his chair, spinning and spinning until he's dizzy. It feels like some kind of representation for his thoughts that are whirling around in his head, bouncing around so much that the disorientation from the chair feels no different to the one in his mind.

 **why are you in my phone?** San sends through, and this time it's the other person's turn to start a cycle of typing and then deleting whatever it is they're going to send.

San waits, unease still sitting somewhere low in his stomach. They seem harmless, just panicked, and San feels bad for them. But — he feels uneasy about his own privacy, his own security. How much does this person know about him?

He snaps out of his thoughts as another message comes through.

**i shouldn't rlly explain this over text. would you mind meeting up?**

San immediately frowns, typing back a reply.

**how will I know you won't kill me or something?**

The reply comes through fairly quickly. **i won't!! i promise. i'm just trying not to get fired, and this really shouldn't be done over text. i'll tell u everything !! we can meet up in a very public spot if that suits you. also honestly i really can't stand the sight of blood, if that helps**

San honestly doesn't feel that much more reassured. Even though he's already thinking of popular landmarks, places full of people that will be around, plenty of witnesses in case anything does go down.

**honestly not really, there's ways to kill someone without them bleeding, San texts back, blanching a little at the thought of it.**

The reply is immediate once again.

**good point but also no ! i promise i won't :( really we can meet somewhere super public and busy! whenever and wherever it suits you !!**

**but like, please give me a chance to explain before you tell anyone :(**

San stares at the words, reading them over and over until they barely make any sense to his mind.

It sounds ridiculous.

It sounds _dangerous_.

He should tell Wooyoung or Yeosang. He should tell Seonghwa. He should absolutely tell them he's going to meet up with someone he's never met before.

Instead, San texts back a reply, trying to push away the worry that's starting to build up and swirl in his stomach, almost making him sick.

**alright. give me some time to think about a place and time.**

The person types for a while, then seems to delete it all.

In the end, San gets a simple reply.

**okay! take as much time as you need. just please don't tell anyone :(**

San locks his phone, and leaves it behind as he goes out for a walk.

* * *

San leaves the message without a reply, without a promise of not telling anyone, for two days.

He doesn't tell anyone, despite the way his stomach churns when he sees Wooyoung and Yeosang that night. They bring home dinner, happy from their date, and San takes it and hides out in his room — unwilling to ruin their good mood with his worries.

Wooyoung and Yeosang bring it up the next day, asking if San is alright, if there's anything they can do to help. San just shakes his head, getting ready for work and trying to push his worries to the back of his mind.

Wooyoung and Yeosang share a frown, but thankfully don't push San. They seem to know he won't appreciate any pushing to divulge, or any attempts at being persistent in trying to help. They leave him be for the day, just feed him once again once he returns home from work. Quietly reassuring him that they're here for him.

With their quiet reassurance, San finally gets the courage to open up the conversation again with Private ID.

He types out a quick text, but does not send it. He lets it sit there as he washes up, pointedly trying not to think about it.

Once he's in bed, once he knows he won't be able to dwell on it much longer, he sends it right before he falls asleep.

It's short: just an address, a local cafe — one that he knows, but one that's a little further than his usual ones around his apartment. And the time; later in the afternoon, after one of his shifts. Also mentions that he'll send the table he's sitting at once he's arrived, unwilling to send any photos of his appearance, and doubtful he'll get any information from the other man until they meet up.

In the morning, San wakes up to a reply.

**thank you. see you then!**

* * *

San figures he'd get this whole meeting out of the way as soon as possible, so he set the day to meet up only two days after the text.

He changes out of his work uniform and into more casual clothes after his shift, heading straight to the cafe. It's on the way home at least, a little outside his normal route, but it's close enough.

He absolutely does not think about the fact that the clothes he's wearing are from the ones he ordered online. The ones he considered would look good for a first date. Absolutely not.

Checking over his phone, he makes sure that he's got Wooyung on speed-dial for emergencies, even though San thinks he can handle himself — it's been a while since he's done any taekwondo, but he had been going over some of his old training the night before. Just in case.

Early to the designated time, he doesn't order anything. He quickly explains that he's waiting for someone to a staff member, and they'll order together. He's given a polite smile and a gesture to help himself to a table, which he does.

It's not too busy at this time — but it'll pick up a bit with those returning from work, and San will have more people as witnesses then. Still, it shouldn't be overwhelmingly busy, not enough for San to feel bad for holding down a table.

He sends a quick text to describe what table he's at. He's not quite at the back of the cafe — he doesn't want to be too far from the door, and doesn't want to be completely out of sight by other customers. He's around the middle of the cafe — in sight of the workers behind the counter, but not too enclosed by all the other tables either.

San is fiddling with his phone. He really should send a text to someone. Seonghwa will likely berate him for telling him so late, and San already knows damn well this is a terrible idea and he doesn't need the reminder, which is the only reason he doesn't end up texting him.

He's starting to think maybe he should text Yeosang or Wooyoung when he gets a text from Private ID.

**hi!! I'm here, about to walk in**

San looks up from his phone to watch the doorway. It opens, and San faintly hears the small entrance chime of the door in the back of his mind.

At the very front of his mind, barrelling right past all his concerns and worries about this whole meet-up, is that the person who walks into the store is very attractive.

San finds his breath catching, and his heart racing — not quite in panic, though he knows it probably should be. God, he's really lost all sense of self-preservation, hasn't he?

Their eyes scan over the cafe, quickly meeting San's, and then they widen for a moment before lifting into a small smile seen even with the mask they're wearing. They pull it down as they approach, and San stands from his chair.

They hold out a hand in greeting, and San clasps it. It's a solid grip — San's is slightly stronger, but it's still noticeably firm.

"I'm Song Mingi," they introduce, and San's stomach absolutely does not flutter at the deep tone, even though he’s technically heard it before. Still, it sounds different when it’s right before him and not through a phone speaker.

"Choi San," he replies, even though he has a feeling it's not needed.

"I really appreciate you meeting me," Mingi says. He's still got a smile, but San can see the worry that's settled heavily around his eyes, the way it's pulling down at his lips even if he doesn't mean for it too.

"I appreciate you not murdering me." San takes a seat, and Mingi easily follows on the other side of the table. "So far, at least."

Mingi does laugh a little at that, though it's mostly out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry for being so cryptic. But, y'know, just in case I was being monitored."

"Right. I can imagine the feeling," San answers. Even though the whole situation does make him uneasy, the thought of being monitored, his tone surprises even himself by being light and teasing.

Mingi graces him with another small laugh. "It's probably not as bad as you're thinking, I promise! Just... Let me explain?"

San gestures to the table before them. "That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

Mingi nods. "Right, right, of course. Uh, okay, well... Have you ordered anything?"

San shakes his head, and Mingi nods again to himself. "Okay, I'm going to order then. Anything you want is on me."

"Oh. Uh, whatever you're having is fine," San replies, a little off-guard. He hasn't even thought about what he'd like to drink; hasn't had the thought to stomach anything, especially not with the nerves and then the fluttering that's started up even since he first saw Mingi.

Mingi goes up to order, and San looks at his phone once more.

He really, _really_ , should text someone about this meeting.

Instead he texts the groupchat with Yeosang and Wooyoung, letting them know he might be home a bit later as he's catching up with someone.

He puts his phone screen down, and lets his gaze wander over to Mingi. He's open and friendly with the staff, their smiles seeming genuine as he talks brightly to them. He's mindful not to disrupt their work, but the staff seem all too willing to talk to a friendly customer.

Mingi glances back once at San as he waits for their order. Surprised that San is already looking, he freezes for a moment. San doesn't look away, and Mingi seems to shake himself out of it and gives San a warm smile.

The order is called, and Mingi walks back to the table with two warm mugs of hot chocolate. San is slightly surprised by the order, but gratefully wraps his hand around the mug.

He was watching carefully; wary about a stranger handling his drink, and Mingi seemed to have sensed it. He made sure his body never obscured San's line of vision to the drinks, and raised his arms up a little so his coat sleeves would fall back as he grabbed the mugs, making sure only to grab the handle.

Keeping his hands warm in favour of taking a drink, Mingi takes a sip of his own. He seems to regret it as he winces, taking in a sharp breath and placing the cup down.

"Hot, hot, hot." Mingi sticks his tongue out a little, and it's so endearing that San can't help but laugh a little.

"Well that wasn't smart of you," San tells him, and Mingi pulls a face.

"I'm nervous! I'm trying to think of how to explain this without it being all..." Mingi makes a gesture with his hands, which quite honestly San isn't quite sure how to interpret.

"To be fair, this whole thing is already rather... Well." San repeats the gesture as best as he can, which seems to settle Mingi's nerves just a little.

"Right, right. It is. Okay, so... How to start this..." Mingi thinks it over, and San gives him all the time he needs. He takes a sip of his own drink, after making sure it's cooled enough to safely sip.

"Okay, so you know secret agents, right? Like... security agents that are all top-secret organisations. Kind of like spies. Kind of like the movies, kind of not," Mingi starts, words starting to blur together near the end. San takes a moment to register it properly, then gives Mingi a look.

"Kind of, but kind of not," he repeats incredulously, but Mingi nods and hums seriously.

"They get some things right, but a lot of things not. Anyway, it's... I work for that kind of organisation. National security."

Mingi reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He flips it open to show San some type of identification — which yeah, absolutely looks like it's from a movie. San has no idea how to tell if it's legitimate.

Putting it away, Mingi continues his story. "There's a lot of agents, lots of divisions. I'm in the cyber division, which is growing pretty big because... you know, there's a lot of cyber activity nowadays. We're split up into demographics usually, and we monitor anyone that's in those specified demographics over a certain period. Usually there's targeted attacks, so we look out for those."

"Targeted attacks like...?"

"Hacking, identity theft, that kind of thing. A bit more on a larger scale than your usual kind of scams and the like," Mingi explains. San nods, even though his brain is kind of hurting at the prospect of being under that type of attack.

"So I was under the demographic you were monitoring, then?" San asks, and Mingi nods.

"Yeah, for about a month. We don't see like, all your activity or anything like that. Nothing that invasive. Just your usual demographic information we get from the database, and then some of your activity online. What topics you're interested in, what advertisements you click on, that sort of thing. The same information your usual search engine saves."

A bit of the unease dissipates inside his stomach. A lot of questions start to rise, and San mentally sorts through them to prioritise.

"But you could hear me that day, couldn't you?" San asks, and Mingi purses his lips.

"Right. I promise that's not, like, a normal thing. It's because I switched the microphone on, and it opened up on your end too. It's kind of like an emergency communication," Mingi explains, gesturing a little wildly through it.

"So why did you even switch the microphone on?"

Mingi sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I had it on for an earlier communication, but between another agent as they're in another building. I thought it was my fault, that I had hit something on accident, but turns out something glitched in the system, and it ended up switching to your device."

"So... if it's not your fault, why are you nervous about being fired?"

Mingi winces. "Well, the other person you probably heard, his name is Yunho. He found out about the glitch today, so I only just found out as I was heading over. I figured you still deserved an explanation anyway."

San thinks the words over, nodding as he processes them properly. "Okay, well. Then about my very specific ads?"

Mingi looks a little lighter with that question at least. "Well, the specific attacks were mostly done through ads, so we took over control a bit for suggested advertising with our demographics. And then I saw that you had a pattern with what ads you liked, and you kept enjoying them, and... honestly, I was just very bored."

"You became my bank account's number one enemy," San warns, very seriously.

Mingi laughs. "I'm glad you liked the ads so much."

"My bank account is suffering," San laments. Mingi just grins, entirely unapologetic, as he takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

Mingi's face turns a little more serious as he places the mug back down. He leans in, the worried furrow to his brows back, and San finds himself leaning forward too, bracing himself.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you? It's not just that I'd get fired, but... We are a secret national organisation. And this kind of thing... People knowing about it would just cause needless panic." Mingi's voice is quieter now.

San thinks it over, imagining the scenarios. The knowledge that there's someone working with the data from his search engine, even as a national security agent, does make San rather paranoid.

And here is Mingi before him; the man on the other end of his phone, explaining it to him with a genuine smile. San realises he trusts him, even if it's probably foolish to do so.

But Mingi won't be able to do this for everyone. Not everyone will believe him. Lies will be exaggerated, concerns heightened, and the paranoia will only rise.

So San understands.

"I didn't tell anyone," San confirms. “Your pet fish will be fine.”

Mingi's shoulders slump with relief, and there’s a smile on his lips again with San’s mention of his fish. "Thank you. Really."

From there, the conversation is a little easier. Mingi is a lot more open and obviously less stressed, and San is more intrigued than he is worried. They talk a lot — enough that San's hot chocolate is cold before he's even finished half of it.

He finishes it, even though the cold chocolate feels like it's coating the inside of his mouth. Mingi paid for it, after all, and he doesn't want to waste it.

Mingi hasn't gotten through his, either — there's simply not enough of a chance to, not with the way they keep talking. They ask questions about their lives, and about their friends, and though Mingi does skirt around the topic of work himself, he does seem genuinely interested in San's much more mundane employment.

It's almost getting dark, the cafe getting closer to closing, by the time they both seem to take a breath. San settles back in his chair, staring at his mug for a moment before looking at Mingi.

"Well," he says, awkward now that he feels that they're coming to the end of their conversation. He finds he doesn't want to — he wants to keep talking to Mingi, wants to keep hearing his voice, his laughter. San doesn't want to leave just yet.

But the staff are starting to prepare for closing, and San thinks they've imposed enough.

"I should probably get home before my roommates worry," San continues. Mingi presses his lips together for a moment before he nods, standing up from his chair.

San follows, both of them saying goodnight to the staff and thanking them before walking outside. They both linger outside of the door — and San realises he has to remember this whole day is real. That Mingi exists outside of the bubble they had created together in the cafe.

Mingi turns to him suddenly. "If- If you're interested, I'd really like to like. Get your number. Properly. And like, on my normal phone. Not my kind-of work phone."

"Kind-of work phone?" San questions as he moves to get his phone out of his pocket.

"Well, I've maybe... Broken a few protocols. Maybe hacked into it myself so they can't track that. Anyway! If you don't want to, I totally understand! Really, it's fine, I definitely understand-"

"Here," San says, cutting into Mingi's rambling. He passes his phone over, already having created a new contact for Mingi to put his number in for.

Mingi lights up, smile wide as he puts in his number.

"I have lots more questions I'll probably think of," San says, and Mingi looks at him hopefully as he passes back his phone.

"Yes, yeah, that's great! If you want to meet up and discuss them, I'm totally down for that," Mingi says, a little quickly in his excitement. San finds himself smiling, his stomach once again stirring with flutterings.

"Okay, sounds like a plan Mr. Fbi Man," San teases, and Mingi flushes for just a moment, then shifts as he dramatically gasps, acting scandalised.

"My identity! Shh, it's a secret!"

San laughs, nudging Mingi playfully. "Of course, how could I forget? Like you didn't just tell your whole life story inside a cafe..."

"No one was listening!" Mingi argues, hands waving around. "It's fine!"

"If you say so," San says with a playful shrug. Mingi pulls a face at him.

San feels his phone buzz in his hand, and looks at it. He sees one text from Mingi's number, with a cute emoticon sticker waving. The most recent is from Wooyoung though, checking if he's still alive.

"I really should head home." San's tone does have a hint of regret in it, and it's clear Mingi catches it.

Mingi does his best to lighten the mood, the smile still on his face. "Yes, okay, thank you again for coming to meet me! Let's meet again when you think of some more questions, okay?"

"Okay," San agrees easily, finding himself already starting to think of more. He'll have to write them down.

And then, right as San is about to turn and walk, he waits another moment. Says, right before they properly leave.

"Hey, Mingi? I'm really glad we met today. And also like, thanks for not murdering me."

* * *

Months later, San sits next to Mingi in their usual spots for dinner.

This time, their friends are with them. Wooyoung and Yeosang are sitting beside each other on the same side of the table, while Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Jongho and Yunho sit across from them.

This isn't the first time they've had dinner together. Far from the first time they've all hung out together.

It's becoming a regular thing; meeting up at the end of the week and having dinner together. Sometimes the place changes, but the people never do.

"Tell us again," Seonghwa says, commanding the attention of everyone as he speaks. "How did you two meet?"

San and Mingi properly announced they were dating last week to the group — met with loud cheers and lots of congratulation, and lots and lots of love.

Now San looks right back at Seonghwa, who's just settled back in his seat after taking some food from the middle of the table. He's getting closer into Hongjoong's space every week, San has noticed.

San wonders if there will be another announcement soon.

For now though, the focus is only on Seonghwa because he had spoken, but now it shifts entirely to San and Mingi.

They have a made-up story for this exact reason — they don't tell it much as they prefer to just brush right past it, not too fond of lying to their friends. San is a little more confident in telling it though, so he takes the lead as Mingi sits quietly beside him.

Yunho's looking at both of them with a knowing look, but is just as sworn to secrecy, so he remains quiet and continues to eat his food.

"So, I was in a game lobby, and there's this new player. He's not even paying attention really, and hasn't realised he's actually left his microphone on..."

Well.

It's close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i will have to admit this pairing and this prompt were both far from my usual style and comfort, but i had fun trying new things !! 
> 
> as usual, kudos/bookmarks/comments are always appreciated <3 I hope you all have a great holidays, and stay safe! <3
> 
> [twt!](https://twitter.com/shiningstarhwa)


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